


There's No Beginning or End in the Space Between Us

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PWP, Sleepy Sex, Soft Dom Freddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 09:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: It’s a quiet drive back to Freddie’s apartment. Connor feels heavy, lethargic. His head sways, eventually comes to rest against the cool window, and he lets himself drift content in the knowledge that Freddie will get them home.





	There's No Beginning or End in the Space Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thanks to GreyMichaela and Miniatures for reading over my porn and showing me where the chat feature is- you both know I'm hopeless with it, don't lie.

Mid way through the third period Connor takes a puck to the shoulder jumping in front of a shot on net. It hurts like a bitch. His arm goes numb for a minute, long enough that he’s started to get worried, back on his feet under his own power, and then the pin pricks set in. It’s the breadth of his shoulders that ache, all the way through his chest, and it has him hobbling over for the trainers to check him out. A few minutes on the bench and he’s got the feeling back, left with a bone deep ache that should fade in a few days. Considering the shot was from  _ Ovechkin _ , he’s just impressed it isn’t broken.

He gets back on the ice eventually and they manage to scrape by a win thanks to two late goals by Auston and Naz. The mood in the locker room is buzzing, the guys talking about going out, but Connor is aching, exhausted and all he can think about is heading home and skipping the optional skate in the morning to sleep in.

The trainers catch him after he showers and drag him off to check his shoulder over again. It’s clear now that it’s just a deep bruise, something that’s going to be uncomfortable, but won’t keep him from playing in two days time. They give him some ibuprofen and an ice pack and send him back out. 

Freddie’s waiting for him just outside the locker room, with their bags and coats. The hall’s empty around them, the ACC eerily silent after hours of activity. Freddie holds out his coat, helps Connor ease into it. He bats Freddie’s hands away when he tries to do up the coat- they’re just going to the car and it hasn’t fully settled into winter in Toronto yet, he won’t freeze in that short walk. Freddie grabs their bags again, slinging them over his shoulder when Connor tries to reach out and take his. 

“I’m not an invalid,” Connor huffs as they make their way out to the parking garage. It’s been long enough that anyone hanging around for autographs has left, and the parking lot is mostly empty. There’s a brisk chill in the air and Connor tugs his coat a little tight around himself, ignoring the look Freddie sends his way.

“How’s your shoulder feel?” 

“Sore.” Connor tugs open the passenger side door and slides in. Freddie’s got the car remotely started and he fiddles with the heating controls while Freddie dumps their gear in the trunk. He gets the heated seats going, pressing back against the leather to try and work some of the aches from his body. The pain meds are starting to kick in and he sinks further into his seat as Freddie gets in behind the wheel.

It’s a quiet drive back to Freddie’s apartment. Connor feels heavy, lethargic. His head sways, eventually comes to rest against the cool window, and he lets himself drift content in the knowledge that Freddie will get them home. It feels like no time at all before Freddie’s long fingers are on his cheek, waking him. 

The trip up to Freddie’s is uneventful. Everyone else is tucked inside in their beds and Connor is thinking longingly of burrowing under Freddie’s duvet and not reemerging until at least noon. They get in and Freddie’s hands are gentle as they strip him of his coat and then sweater, leading him through the dark apartment towards the bathroom. Connor leans heavily against the counter as Freddie gets the shower started, letting the temperature adjust as he turns back to help Connor undress. His jeans and boxers come off easily, but his shirt is tricky, shoulder having stiffened up on the ride over. Once he’s naked, Freddie is quick to strip out of his own clothes, then herds him into the shower. Steam is filling up the shower stall, and Connor eases under the spray, nearly groaning as the hot water hits him. 

“Better?” Freddie chuckles, hands coming up to rest on Connor’s hips. Connor doesn’t realize he’s leaning until his cheek is mashed against Freddie’s chest, his skin warm from the steam of the shower, smooth against his face. He sighs, humming happily. They’d both showered at the arena, so instead of getting clean again, Connor lets Freddie hold him up, big hands running from his hips, up along his back to work gently at the knotted muscles in his shoulders. God, it feels good, the sharp pain as Freddie digs his talented fingers into knots Connor didn’t even know he had, giving way to the pleasure of his muscles finally relaxing. 

They stay in there until the water starts to turn cool and then Freddie wraps him up in a huge fluffy towel, pointing him in the direction of the bedroom while he dries himself and throws their clothes in the laundry hamper. 

Connor barely makes it to the bed. His muscles have taken on the consistency of mush, his brain heavy with the need to sleep. He drops his towel and crawls up the bed, wincing when it puts strain on his shoulder. He manages to squirm his way under the duvet and then collapses, groaning at how good the cool sheets feel against his skin. 

He doesn’t hear Freddie come into the room but he can feel it when the bed dips under his weight. Connor twists just enough that he can watch Freddie as he perches on the edge of the bed, expression hungry as his gaze travels over Connor. He’s exhausted but it still manages to light something up in him, as it always does. 

“Like what you see?” 

Freddie’s lips quirk up and Connor’s gaze is drawn down, down the wide chest and defined abs to where his cock is sitting half hard against his hip. 

“I guess.” Freddie shrugs and Connor summons enough energy to kick him as best he can from under the blanket. “How’s your shoulder feel?”

Connor considers it, shifting, pleased when it doesn’t twinge uncomfortably anymore. 

“A lot better, thanks.” 

“Thanks for making that save.” Freddie pushes onto his knees, shifts until he’s straddling Connor’s thighs and presses a light kiss to his sore shoulder. “I know Ovechkin’s shots pack a punch.”

“Remind me to never do that again.” Connor groans into the pillow and Freddie huffs out a laugh. Freddie runs his hands lightly over Connor’s bare skin, barely a tease, more of a comfort, and Connor can feel his eyes growing heavy, body relaxing into the firm mattress. 

He makes a sound of protest when Freddie’s weight disappears. Freddie shushes him gently, and then the duvet is pulled away and cold air hits Connor’s skin. It’s enough to have him prying his eyes open. The main light gets switched off and a moment later the room is cast in the soft glow of the bedside lamp as Freddie rejoins him on the bed. This time he settles himself between Connor’s legs, spreading them to make space for himself. Connor tries to help, to get to his knees but he’s sleepy, sore and Freddie just presses him back down into the sheets, one large hand on his hip holding him still until he gets the message.

“This alright?” 

Connor nods, rubbing his cheek against the pillow, grasping it as he waits. 

Lust feels like a far off memory at the moment but there’s interest there, buzzing quietly beneath his skin as Freddie’s dick rubs against the back of his thigh. He’s not even sure he can get hard, but there’s nothing he wants more than Freddie’s presence, Freddie a hot heavy blanket over him. 

Freddie shifts, digs through the bedside table and a moment later there’s the sound of a cap being opened. 

The lube is cold when it’s drizzled over his hole and he jerks, the first vestiges of sleep pushed momentarily away. One large finger presses teasingly against him, rubbing. He’s so relaxed that Freddie’s finger slips in easily and Connor moans helplessly into the pillow at the feeling. Kisses are scattered across his back, sucking, open mouthed, sure to leave marks. A second finger is added and Connor whimpers, feeling happily full. Long thick fingers are fucking him, pressing deeper, opening him up. His hips give little twitches against the sheets. He’s hard, he realizes, gasping as Freddie grazes his prostate, but it’s a far off thought, secondary to the hazy feeling of arousal, thick and heavy like a warm blanket.

The room is silent save for the sounds of their heavy breathing, the rapid beat of his heart in his ears. He thinks they could go on like this forever, Freddie fucking him open with his fingers, Connor floating above his body, content just to take whatever he’s given. 

Freddie’s fingers pull out and Connor whines in discontent. 

“I’ve got you,” Freddie murmurs. He doesn’t try to move Connor, thank god, Connor isn’t sure he’d be able to hold himself up at this point. He just slicks up his cock, snakes an arm under Connor’s chest and presses slowly inside. 

Connor tenses briefly at the intrusion and Freddie pauses, just barely inside. 

“Relax.” Freddie presses a kiss to his shoulder and Connor lets out a shaky exhale, sinking into the sheets and Freddie’s hold on him. Freddie’s hips slip forwards and he’s buried balls deep in him. 

It feels like so much, filling him up until there’s barely any space for himself left. And then Freddie shifts, and sweet shocks of pleasure light him up from the inside. 

Freddie doesn’t try to pull out too far, doesn’t let up on the iron grip he has clasped across Connor’s chest, just settles for a slow, deep grind that has them both panting. He can feel Freddie’s hot breath against his ear, feel his weight pinning him to the bed, covering him completely, his dick filling him up so perfectly. It feels so good Connor wants to cry from it but he can’t summon the energy to do anything more than just take it, take the pleasure that’s given to him. 

He’s leaking steadily against the sheets as Freddie grinds into him, sucks at the side of his neck, marks him up. Freddie feels huge in him, stretching him wide, hitting his prostate on each dirty grind until Connor has to squeeze his eyes shut as his body locks up and he comes messily all over the sheets.

Freddie fucks him through it, careful thrusts as Connor comes down from his high, panting, unable to focus on anything more than the dick still in his ass. He shivers as Freddie picks up the pace again, a few brutal thrusts that push Connor up the bed, through the mess of come he’s left on the sheets, and then comes, grinding deep and filling Connor up. 

Connor drifts, body heavy and come drunk. Distantly he feels Freddie pull out, lets himself be shifted out of the mess they made, feels the covers pulled up as he’s tucked carefully in. Sleep is tugging at him, but he fights its hold just a little while longer. And then the mattress dips, the blanket shifts and Freddie slides in next to him, tugging Connor until he’s curled up against his side. He sighs, sinking into the warmth of Freddie’s body, head pillowed on his chest, heartbeat steady in his ear. 

He’s asleep between one moment and the next. 


End file.
